When they finally arrived at their destination Farrel was even more perplexed. The squire stopped outside a tent flying the crest Kalar. Castle Kalar was the main keep protecting the south west border against the goblin tribes. He had never specifically been to the castle and as far as he could recollect had never met anyone from there. During the Starvation War the southern castles had been engaged against the goblins so it was unlikely that his reputation had anything to do with the summons.
"My master's tent," said the squire.
"After you," replied Farrel suddenly alert.
"I was given very clear instructions that only you were permitted to enter," replied the squire nervously.
Nothing was adding up so Farrel primed his mind with wind spell as he bent down to pick a single blade of grass, never taking his eyes from the squire as he did so. The squire for his part looked back quizzically at Farrel and gestured for him to enter.
"Please, my master is impatient at the best of times," he insisted.
Farrel squeezed the blade of grass between two fingers on his right hand so that it was not obvious that he was holding it. Since he had no idea what he was about to walk into it was better to be safe than sorry. It was always good to be prepared for any eventuality as a wizard including running into another magic user with the wrong intent. Not all members of the Conclave were unified and it was always possible that his return to the realm would be seen as a threat to some.
Farrel took a deep breath to focus and calm his mind then pushed apart the tent flaps and entered. The moment he stepped inside he was immediately assaulted by an alluring mixture of perfumes. He stopped just inside the entry and surveyed the interior of the tent, it was dimly lit by several small lanterns set to burn very low and in the flickering light it was hard to see.
In the centre of the tent was a bed of sorts, made from several thick wool skins underneath a liberal sprinkling of silk covered pillows. As far as an army camp went it was about as luxurious as one could expect.
There was a movement amongst the cushions, but in the dim light he could not make out who it was. He stepped closer with the blade of grass squeezed firmly between his thumb and index finger just in case.
It was a woman and when she spoke Farrel dropped the blade of grass in a combination of shock and embarrassment at letting his mind race so vividly towards treachery. This was not the type of ambush he was expecting.
"I was worried you would not come," said Gabrielle. Farrel's eyes widened as he looked down upon Gabriele lying in amongst the pillows wearing an emerald coloured nightgown that was barely covering and virtually transparent.
Farrel's eyes were drawn hypnotically up along her bare legs to the sensual curves of her hips, across her flat stomach and moderate, but firm bosom. Her long copper curls had been unleashed and lay wildly across several pillows. He finally came to look into her grey eyes and they were as piercing and fiery as always.
As an apprentice he had been desperately and secretly in love with her. It was an impossible love that was made briefly tangible after he had saved her from kidnap by goblins. Unfortunately the death of her father and the start of the Starvation War had dragged them apart. The last time he had seen her was the day he was forced to leave Castle Ulan on his quest to try and stop the war. That was just over fifteen years ago.
As a young maiden she had possessed an innocent beauty, but now she had the seductive allure of a woman who knew what she wanted and had the power to take it. Long ago he had pushed thoughts of her far from his mind in order to stay focused on his quest. It had not been easy to forget her and seeing her again after so long brought a myriad of cellared emotions racing to the surface.
At that moment, standing in front of her half naked form, his feelings were confused. His physical attraction to her and the resultant lust that accompanied it was strong and it overpowered everything else to the point that he could not tell if he still loved her anymore or not.
Gabrielle stood and moved close to him so that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek when she spoke.
"I remember you were speechless the first time we met too," she teased.
"I knocked you down by accident in the street. I was just a farm boy, not even an apprentice and you were a lord's daughter. I was in fear for the skin on my back."
"Now you are an infamous wizard and I am the wife of a lord. If anyone finds you here alone with me they will take more than the skin from your back. Is that what holds your tongue now?" she asked before kissing him passionately.
The feeling of her soft lips against his brought back memories of their first and only other kiss. It was like a lightning strike then and it was no different now. He could not help, but to kiss her back and then bury his nose in her hair. It still had that same wonderful smell and it made him feel briefly younger again. It brought back more memories too and he revelled in them for a moment before regaining his senses and pulling away.
"So...you are Lady Kalar now. You were never one for convention so how did that happen?"
"Do you really wish to speak of the past or would you rather take the opportunity to spend one night alone together in the way we were meant to all those years ago?"
"We can't just forget the past."
"I was prepared to for just this one night," replied Gabrielle deflated and annoyed. She spun on her heels and walked over to a small table and poured herself a cup of wine from a pitcher there. "You are still as stubborn as you where back then. I married Timothy Kalar's younger brother Alfred. I'm sure you remember Timothy," she said her voice trailing off as the sad memory enveloped her thoughts briefly. She was silent for a moment until she regained her composure. "It was a political marriage, the only way to keep Kalar from breaking from the kingdom and starting a civil war directly after the end of the Starvation War. It would have been the end of Risandea. Alfred is a good and honourable man, but it is a loveless marriage and we keep our indiscretions discrete."
"Is that why you summoned me? Am I a new discrete indiscretion for you?"
Gabrielle rolled her eyes and gulped down the cup of wine. "For someone so incredibly smart you understand women not at all. I asked you here tonight Farrel Tarse because the moment I saw you land in camp I wanted to forget my loveless marriage and spend one night in the arms of someone I actually love or at least once loved. What of you? You left and never returned. I waited and hoped that you would ride back through the castle gates after the end of the war, but you never did. Tell me, what made you drag my cousin away from his family and his life? What was so important that it made you leave me?"
"I cannot tell you," replied Farrel bluntly.
"You were right then I guess. We cannot forget the past and if that is the only answer you have for me then I also cannot forgive the past. You should leave," she said angrily. Farrel didn't move so she threw the empty wine goblet at him in exasperation. "I said leave!"
"No," replied Farrel firmly without raising his voice. "I could not return and cannot return until my quest is complete. The fate of all Umijia rests on my success."
"Why did you come back now then?"
Farrel bent down and picked up the empty goblet, walked over to the table and poured himself a glass and swallowed a mouthful before he spoke.
"There is some very dark magic with that army across the plain. I have travelled to every corner of Risandea and even across the seas to other lands. Yet in all I have seen of Umijia I don't know where this army or its magic came from. That scares me."
"Do I still scare you too?" she asked stepping closer to him again.
"Yes," he replied as his fingers intertwined between hers with a timid gentleness of two teenagers experiencing such physicality for the first time.
"Why are you still here then?"
"Because I have learned it's better to face my fears head on than to walk away from them," he replied then kissed her gently on the lips once more.
They lay down on the bed and removed each other's clothes as they did
so. As Farrel moved to lie on top of Gabrielle he stopped and stared into her eyes.
"You understand that no matter what our feelings might be for each other that this night is nothing more than a brief fantasy," he said, his tone melancholy.
She nodded and a tear trickled down the side of her face.
"I don't care. I just want the night we should have had before you left. I want to feel loved just once. You owe me that much."
The love making between them was slow, gentle and passionate. Farrel immersed himself completely in the moment. He briefly forgot about the sense of foreboding that had plagued him for months, the fear of the pending battle and he even forgot the dangerous consequences of the last time he had let his guard down with a woman.
When they had finished Farrel rolled over onto his back and stared at the roof of the tent while Gabrielle snuggled against him with her head resting comfortably on his chest. Reality came flooding back. First and foremost was the pain left by that witch that had broken his heart and tried to kill him. The raw emotions of that failed relationship intertwined with the old feelings now renewed for Gabrielle.
Solomon had once observed that he seemed to be drawn to impossible relationships and he wondered if his friend was correct. He smelled Gabrielle's hair again to try and clear his mind and return to senseless bliss a little longer, but it did not work. It was impossible to ignore the fact that whether they loved each other or not it was irrelevant because the best they could hope for were brief moments like this.
#
Solomon stumbled out of the wizard's tent on the best tarbry high he'd had in ages. The deep pain in his leg was gone, he felt good inside and he revelled in the sensation even though it was artificial and most certainly temporary.
Tarbry always made him hungry and his stomach was soon growling. He walked around the perimeter of the camp looking for the closest campfire. Only the lowest untrained conscripts were relegated to the outer edges of the camp. Always best to keep your expendable troops where they were most vulnerable to night raids in order to protect the elite core of the army.
If he was going to fight as a free man on the morrow he wanted it to mean something and what better way than to fight alongside peasants defending their lands and perhaps keeping a few of them alive with his skills.
He finally came across a campfire that was now just burning embers, yet still radiating an intense amount of heat. Above the fire several rabbits were skewered and slowly cooking. Crowded around the fire was a group of fourteen young men, farmers who had probably never lifted a sword in anger before let alone in battle.
Dulling their sense of collective fear and exaggerating their sense of false bravado was the wineskin that was being passed around. Solomon smiled; these were exactly the kind of people he was looking for.
He walked over to them and intercepted the wineskin as it was about to pass from one young man to another. He took a long swig himself. It was very potent and certainly not wine, probably fermented potatoes.
"Oi there!" said the young man that was supposed to be next with the wineskin as he turned to stare at Solomon annoyed.
"You should go easy on this stuff or none of you will be able to stand straight let alone swing a sword tomorrow," replied Solomon sternly as he grabbed one of the skewered rabbits and took a big bite. Before any of the others had a chance to react he then tossed the wineskin into the glowing remains of the fire. The embers flashed briefly with blue flame as the skin burst and the alcohol caught fire, testimony to the potency of the liquid.
There was a chorus of angry comments and one of the young men stood and went face to face with Solomon. He was a strapping big lad, all muscles and sinew with not an ounce of fat on him. He was clearly used to the hard physical labour of tending crops.
"That was not yours to throw into the fire. You owe me ten coppers," said the young lad through gritted teeth. There was more verbal support from his friends and several others also stood.
Solomon calmly stood his ground and kept eating the rabbit as he eyed them all one by one. They were all afraid and full of adrenaline. He had known this very mixture of emotions himself as a young squire many years ago. He also knew that being young and charged with fear and adrenaline did not help your chances of survival in a battle.
"Sit back down unless you want me to remove your head," ordered Solomon as he tossed the rabbit aside and slowly placed his sword hand onto the hilt of his sword.
The other young men still sitting around the fire went quiet and even those who had stood sat back down again. The big lad who had demanded his money however, started to draw his sword.
"Faolan stop!" yelled another young man who jumped up and grabbed at Faolan's sword arm to stop him.
"Why don't you just go back home Kasa and tend your father's pig farm if you are too afraid to fight!" replied Faolan shoving Kasa back so he could draw his sword without further interference.
"But that is the Black Ram!"
"Your tall tale about the Crimson Wizard and his dirty black sheep was a fine campfire story Kasa, but this is real. There is no way Lord Cortria would let the Black Ram fight in his army," replied Faolan spitting on the ground in front of Solomon. "Even if he is then nobody will care if I cut out his heart from his chest!"
Ordinarily Solomon would have taken that insult to his honour personally, but the young man in front of him was no warrior and it was the exact reaction he had been trying to provoke, so instead he just stirred the pot a little more.
"Perhaps you should stop talking and actually use that sword of yours...or are you a coward?"
That was the spark that started the fire. Faolan lunged clumsily at him, swinging his dull looking short sword wildly. Solomon easily dodged the blow, his own sword still sheathed.
As Faolan stumbled by him, partially off balance due to the enormous air swing, Solomon drew his sword and quickly slapped him across the back with the flat side of it.
Faolan was now enraged and turned back to face Solomon. He had that all too familiar fevered look in his eye, the one driven by anger and frustration. He launched himself at Solomon again, this time with a series of vicious slashes that Solomon easily deflected.
The lad had a lot of strength in those arms, but it was being used aimlessly. Solomon let him keep swinging and continued to parry and dodge around the bigger man. Most untrained soldiers would have been sweating and gasping for air after a minute, but Faolan's stamina impressed him.
Now that he had the full attention of the group Solomon brought the fight to a rapid conclusion. He waited for Faolan to over extend at the end of one of his many wild slashes. As soon as his did Solomon stepped inside his sword arm and smashed him in the face with the hilt of his own sword. The blow sent Faolan tumbling over backwards onto the ground.
Solomon quickly moved to stand over him and pushed the point of his sword uncomfortably against his chest.
"Do you yield?" he demanded. Faolan looked around at his friends angrily willing them to join the fight. Solomon pushed his sword a little harder so that it began to break the skin and draw blood. "Do you really want my sword through your chest?"
"I yield, I yield," winced Faolan.
"Smart choice," said Solomon sheathing his sword. Then he turned to the others and spoke loudly. "I am the Black Ram and as of right now I am in command and I will be leading this flock of little black sheep into battle!"
"But Tobias Grun is our master-at-arms," said Kasa timidly.
"Not anymore."
"Why should we follow someone who has disgraced the knighthood?" asked one of the young men.
"Because tomorrow will be a real battle fought with an enemy that does not observe the rules of honour that we do. Tomorrow I fight as a free man for the first time in over a decade and I intend to reclaim my honour. Would you prefer to fight next to the best swordsman in all of Risandea or should I go search for more willing men?"
There was silence as the young men looked around at each other. Faolan
stood and Solomon kept a wary eye on him to make sure he was not going to try something stupid.
Kasa stepped over to stand beside him.
"I will gladly take any help in staying alive," he said.
The others remained motionless and silent until Faolan cleared his throat and moved to stand beside Solomon as well.
"Disgraced or not I'd rather stand beside your sword arm than against it. If we live perhaps they will write new tales about the Black Ram and his flock of black sheep."
This seemed to soften the others and soon they were all making gestures of support.
"Good! Now everyone go and get some sleep and that's an order. The army will start forming at dawn so we will be up well before that!"
#
Farrel stood at the edge of the plain in the radiant early morning sun. He bent down and rubbed his hand on the grass and felt the damp of the dew on his hand. It felt tantalisingly close to reality, but after so many years of visions he knew it was not.
This vision in particular was like none he had ever had before. This one had a shallow sensation to it, as though he could scratch away the surface and reveal nothing behind it.
Despite the strange sensation this was the first clear vision he'd had for some time and it intrigued him. He turned back towards the army camp behind him to see everyone was moving in slow motion. Every sound slurred in time so that he had no idea what the people were saying.
He walked slowly around the camp trying to see anything of significance. Normally his visions were of the events of others and often from places far away, but they all meant something important.
He saw no clear signs in the camp and he wondered what it meant. He willed himself awake, something he had been able to master after so many years, but it did not work.
Then he heard a roar from out on the plain and he ran back there. Right out in the centre of the plain was a large black manticore and on its back was a woman.
She dismounted the beast and placed her hand gently on its nose, completely unperturbed by its razor sharp lion's teeth and its deadly scorpion tail. The beast bowed its head and sat beside her in complete obedience.
Visions of Magic - Invasion Page 3